Can't Wash You Off Me
by Traxits
Summary: Erica kept glancing at him every chance she got, eyes narrow and sharp as they lingered on him, but it wasn't the same kind of look he was used to getting from girls.


**Title**: Can't Wash You Off Me  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Teen Wolf  
**Status**: Complete, 1209 words.  
**Pairing**: Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore  
**Content** **Notes**: Chose not to use warnings. Read at your own risk.  
**Summary**: Erica kept glancing at him every chance she got, eyes narrow and sharp as they lingered on him, but it wasn't the same kind of look he was used to getting from girls.  
**Author's Notes**: Written for the **Fic_Promptly** community on Dreamwidth for the promt: _Teen Wolf, Derek/Jackson, The others in the pack can smell him Derek's clothes._

**[[ ... One Shot ... ]]**

Derek had grinned faintly, indulgently, when Jackson asked him not to tell, to keep this just between them. It wasn't anyone else's business, and Jackson wasn't really ready to try to come to terms with this out there in his real life. It was bad enough that he was probably going to be jerking off to this memory for weeks. Months. And he didn't care that Derek had that smug expression so long as he agreed.

It was Erica's expression when she saw him a few days later that convinced Jackson that Derek's amusement had been something more than simple indulgence. She kept glancing at him every chance she got, eyes narrow and sharp as they lingered on him, but it wasn't the same kind of look he was used to getting from girls. Instinctively, the second time he caught her at it, he bared his teeth at her. Her lips quirked in a little grin, but her eyes dropped from him. Until he looked away. Then he could feel her staring at him all over again.

Lunch was even worse because he saw Erica and Boyd sitting together, discussing something lowly between them and hushing whenever Jackson walked by. His back went straight and locked at the idea, and he glared at both of them. He spent the entire lunch period trying to read their lips— and wondering why the hell he hadn't gotten Scott's stupidly impressive hearing with his bite— and only half listening as Danny told him about some party that Jackson was pretty sure he'd be all over normally. Plenty of alcohol and hot girls and no stupid Scott or any of those assholes to ruin it for him, throw him off his game? Oh hell yeah.

But he just shrugged it off now, and when Danny asked if he was okay, Jackson had a moment where he wondered if he could actually tell Danny—

_Derek's hands were hard and heavy against him, fingers curving over Jackson's hips and holding him right there against the damn wall, and how many times had Jackson done this to Lydia? Pushed her up against something and pressed his lips to her throat, and grinned to himself when he got one of those little breathy gasps out of her? Now he was the one with his back against a burnt wall, Derek's hand sliding down on the outer edge of his thigh, pulling it up and pushing his hand further to grab Jackson's ass, hold him steady as Derek pressed against him. He was the one making those breathy sounds as Derek's teeth scraped over his throat, and all he could think was that Derek was going to bite him at some point, was going to do that weird shifting thing and bite him and fuck, that thought was hot—_

No. He wasn't about to tell Danny any of that, least of all that he was gay for Derek fucking Hale. He ate his lunch and made some excuse before he cut the rest of his classes.

At least Erica and Boyd stayed at the school and didn't follow him, but he was halfway to the Hale house when he realized that someone was. He could feel them, feel their gaze on him, and he stopped, glancing over his shoulder, swallowing. He was in the woods near the house by now, so he took a risk and called, "Derek? If that's you this isn't funny, man."

For a few minutes, it was just quiet, and then there was a rustle and the other kid that Derek had collected stepped out, hands in his pockets as he tilted his head and stared at him. He looked like he was trying to figure out a puzzle, but there was this grin on his lips that Jackson suddenly wanted to hit him for. Isaac stayed well out of his reach though, and he leaned back against one of the trees.

"So it was you. Erica said it was, but I wasn't so sure."

"Was me what? Is that why Boyd and Erica kept staring at me all day?" Jackson's hand clenched, and he stepped toward Isaac, who didn't move. He just studied him, shrugging slightly.

"We could smell you on him," he said after a minute, and Jackson hesitated, eyes widening.

"_What_?"

"You were all over his clothes. Can smell him on you too, for that matter. Come on. He'll be back soon enough. You can wait in the house." Isaac pushed off the tree, and Jackson watched him brush by— no longer scared of Jackson's temper the way he should have been, the way people used to be before this whole thing with Scott started— and he fell into step behind him, working hard to keep himself from blushing. He wasn't some girl and he wasn't some kind of blushing virgin. He'd had sex before. Lots of it. Granted, none of it with a guy.

Not before that night.

"I've showered since then. Several times," he muttered, and Isaac snorted before glancing over his shoulder back at Jackson.

"I know." Then he stopped walking and Jackson nearly ran into him. He scowled sharply, and Isaac turned around to face him and leaned in close, sniffing him obviously enough to make Jackson go still.

"What?"

"Definitely still smell like him," Isaac murmured, and he reached out for Jackson's hand, sighing when Jackson jerked it back from him and reaching to take it anyway. His nose brushed against Jackson's palm, and Jackson's breath caught when he added, "Right here."

_Jackson's hand had shaken when he'd first wrapped it around Derek's dick. He couldn't help it and it was weird anyway, moving his hand like that, not backwards exactly, but still different than when he jerked himself off. But that low growl from Derek had been all Jackson needed for encouragement, and he focused on what he was doing. He was good at this, at sex and at making it good for his partner (for Lydia), and now, with Derek breathing harder, Derek's hand in his hair, Jackson couldn't look away from his face. He was so close, was going to come right there in Jackson's hand—_

Jackson snatched his hand back, rubbing his palm and scowling. "Freak," he muttered. "Stop jerking me around. I know where the house is. I'll go up there and wait for him."

Isaac didn't stop him as he shoved by him and headed toward the house, and Jackson glanced over his shoulder at him, giving him another scowl when he saw the way Isaac was completely calm, completely unfazed by his temper. People used to be scared of him.

He got in the house and shut the door behind him, as though that did any good at all with the way the house was just a burnt out husk, and he brought his hand up to his nose and breathed, trying to see if he could smell Derek on him still. He couldn't smell anything, but obviously that didn't mean anything.

He needed better soap.


End file.
